From Shadows to Light
by Lia Whyteleafe
Summary: In the Halls of Mandos, Maedhros wishes to know the fate of his brother Maglor. Part of the 'Song of the Waves' series.
1. Chapter 1

**From Shadows to Light**

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own anything from Tolkien's world.**

**Author's Note: ****I promised a prequel/sequel to 'Song of the Waves' and 'Unnumbered Tears'. This is the first instalment.**

The Doomsman of the Valar passes through the Halls of Waiting, listening to the whispers of those that dwelled within. The _fëa_ of the Eldar are gradually decreasing in number; one by one, they are exchanging the quiet darkness of Mandos for the light and life of Valinor. There are those who have passed the time Lord Námo had decreed they should spend in his Halls, but have no desire to leave just yet; when they do leave, it is at their own desire as well as the will of Námo.

Sometimes, when a _fëa_ leaves the Halls to be reimbodied, he or she will ask one thing of the Lord of Mandos. It is not unexpected, for he foretold it himself.*

"I ask mercy for them…"

"Please, forgive them as I have done."

Every time, they will ask with respect and a genuine plea from the heart. Every time, Námo will reply: "It is not yet their time." He is not cruel – only truthful.

xxx

"Is he here?"

"The living should not be the concern of the dead, child."

"I beg of thee, my lord, please tell me if my brother Maglor is in these Halls."

When Maedhros son of Fëanor was a prisoner in Angband and about to be hung by the right wrist from the black cliffs, he had not begged. He had not asked Morgoth or his minions for mercy once before he was rescued by his cousin.

"Maglor lives yet."

"Is he…how fares he?"

Námo is silent; Maedhros does not know how long it is before he speaks again.

"I can show you if you wish, Maedhros son of Fëanor. Do you wish to know?"

There is a moment of hesitation. Then: "…Yes."

…_A solitary figure makes his way along the shore, watching as the waves as they crash on the rocks. Seabirds whirl above him, their cries nearly drowning out the sound of his voice. His singing is so beautiful yet every single note breaks upon the rocks, continuously filling the air with shards of pain…_

If souls could weep, the floor would be awash with tears.

"My brother…"

**To be continued. Reviews are very welcome!**

_*…your houseless spirits shall come then to Mandos. There long shall ye abide and yearn for your bodies, and find little pity though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you._ From "_The Silmarillion", _Chapter 9, _Of the Flight of the Noldor_.


	2. Chapter 2

**From Shadows To Light**

**Chapter Two**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own anything or anyone in Tolkien's world.**

**Author's Note:**** Here's an update!**

Maedhros is the last one left. All his brothers have departed the Halls of Waiting. Lord Námo sits on his black throne, eyes fixed upon the _fëa _before him.

Maedhros dares not look the Vala in the face.

"Son of Fëanor, do you know why I have summoned you?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Long have you been in the Halls of Waiting. You have accepted correction and instruction according to your needs*. Is it your wish to be sent back into life?"

There is silence. Námo will not send anyone back who is unwilling, and Maedhros knows this. He is overwhelmed at the thought that the Vala deems him worthy of being reimbodied. He has indeed spent many ages in the Halls.

Yet the vision of Maglor by the sea haunts him still.

_Is it my wish to be sent back into life?_

"No, my lord."

xxx

"You refused."

Maedhros does not answer. It takes him a while to realise that his father is not surprised.

"When Lord Námo summoned your brothers, they also declined."

_And yet eventually they left the Halls. When_ _Námo summons you for a second time, you too will leave._

Maedhros hears the words as clearly as if Fëanor had spoken them aloud.

"Father, if he were to speak to you and offer you the chance to return to life, would _you_ accept?"

There is no response from the Spirit of Fire.

xxx

Years pass in the Halls, and Maedhros' thoughts keep wandering to the family he has in Valinor: his mother, brothers, and also his grandfather Mahtan. He misses them, and he still feels a terrible guilt concerning his deeds in life. Many innocents died at his hands.

He has forgiven his father and brothers, but he has not forgiven himself. Nor has he forgotten the burn of the Silmaril in his hand, or the lonely figure of his wandering brother.

He does not speak of any of this to his sire – but Fëanor knows his firstborn better than said firstborn would like to admit.

"Do you think I do not miss your brothers? Do you think I will not miss you when you depart? You are my sons, my _children_, and I love you more than you could ever know. You are not the only one in these Halls with regrets! And do you seriously imagine I do not miss _her_?"

Maedhros tries to reply, but cannot find the words.

xxx

Once again, Maedhros is before the black throne.

"Son of Fëanor, do you know why I have summoned you?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Is it still your wish to remain in my Halls?"

Maedhros does not know if the offer will be extended to him a third time.

"Forgive me, my lord, but what of my father?"

"His time is not yet come, child, and it will not come for many years yet."

There is silence in the hall. Then Maedhros speaks again. "What of my brother Maglor?"

"Your brother wanders still. Whether he will return home or no is not for me to decide."

Once again, there is a brief silence.

"Maedhros son of Fëanor, is it your wish to be sent back into life?"

"Yes, my lord."

xxx

"You will see me again, my son. I promise you."

Maedhros cannot express his gratitude at being given the chance to say farewell to his father – yet this second time is even harder than the first.

"I know, Father, but…what of you? I do not want you to be alone."

"He will not be alone. I will stay with him."

Finwë's reassuring words send waves of relief through his grandson.

"Thank you, Grandfather."

Námo's commanding voice echoes through the Halls; it is a summons Maedhros dares not disobey. As he prepares to leave, he hears his father quietly plead with him.

"_Bring him home…"_

Maedhros has learned by now not to make a promise he cannot keep. He says nothing.

**To be continued. Reviews are very welcome!**

*J.R.R. Tolkien's _Morgoth's Ring, The Later __**Quenta Silmarillion**__ (II), _p.222


	3. Chapter 3

**From Shadows To Light**

**Chapter Three**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own anything or anyone in Tolkien's world.**

The first thing Maedhros sees when he opens his eyes is the sky. Sunlight, warm and golden, falls upon the red-haired Elf. Maedhros draws in a long, deep breath.

He is lying beside a silver willow. The wind rustles in the branches, making the delicate shadows of the branches dance upon the ground.

_The Gardens of Lòrien._

Maedhros slowly gets to his feet. He reaches out and touches the tree with his left hand. The bark is cool beneath his skin.

"Welcome, Maedhros son of Fëanor."

He looks up to see the Vala Irmo approaching him. "My lord," he says, kneeling on the grass and bowing his head.

The Vala places a small pile of white clothes in front of Maedhros. "Thank you," he murmurs. His voice is as quiet as the wind in the leaves.

"Once you are dressed, come with me to your grandmother's resting place. You are awaited there."

Maedhros begins to unfold the garments with his left hand: a tunic, trousers, shoes and a thin cloak with a hood. He looks up and sees Irmo smiling warmly at him. Confused, he picks up the tunic, pulls it over his head, and inserts his arms in the sleeves.

His heart nearly stops beating when two hands emerge from the garment. He flexes his fingers, and stares in shock at his white, unblemished palms. Tears spring to his eyes and fall down his face.

_Thank you, Eru Ilúvatar._

Maedhros uses both hands to wipe his tears away.

xxx

The Gardens are every bit as beautiful as Maedhros remembers. He wonders if he will be able to wander around in them at nightfall, when the air is full of the scent of nightflowers and starlight is reflected in the lakes and fountains.

There are other Elves in the Gardens. They bow their heads respectfully to Irmo, glance at the hooded Elf following him and then melt back into the trees. Maedhros is thankful for the cloak; he does not want to be recognized just yet, if at all.

Before he knows it, he is standing before a white tombstone. Certain they are alone, he pulls his hood back, and allows his hair to fall about his shoulders.

The grave of Míriel Serindë stands at the foot of a cedar tree. It has clearly been tended; fresh red flowers lie at its base.

Maedhros remembers the first time he saw his grandmother's resting-place. He had been a young child then, holding his father's hand and fearful to let go. Fëanor had knelt before the stone, kissed the fingertips of his free hand and then pressed them to the name carved into the marble. He had then picked Maedhros up and carried him away without saying a word.

Maedhros glances to his right; a figure is approaching through the trees. On seeing him, she halts briefly and stands looking at him before coming closer. She moves quietly yet purposefully.

His vision becomes blurred with tears. He opens his mouth to try and ask forgiveness he knows he does not deserve, but nothing comes out.

A gentle hand touches his right cheek.

"I have missed you so," Nerdanel whispers.

**To be continued. Reviews are very welcome.**


	4. Chapter 4

**From Shadows to Light**

**Chapter Four**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own anything or anyone in Tolkien's world.**

**Author's Note:**** Sorry for the late update!**

"You cannot hide away forever."

Maedhros does not reply. He and Fingon are sitting side by side outside Nerdanel's house, under the trees. They are quietly listening to the birdsong. A tiny sparrow lands a little way away from them; both Elves watch the bird as it hops about busily.

"I do not stay away because I fear to face those I have wronged – or those whom I killed."

"Then why do you and your brothers still live in isolation?"

Maedhros does not answer. He cannot tell his cousin that he genuinely believes that others will be happier if the sons of Fëanor are never seen in the city of Tirion.

"We are kinslayers, Fingon. That cannot be changed."

The sparrow hops up to the two Elves, pecking at the ground. Fingon reaches out and gently coaxes it onto the palm of his hand.

"Have you forgotten I too am a kinslayer?"

Startled, Maedhros opens his mouth to speak, but does not find the words.

"My father is one, as is my brother. The house of Fingolfin shed blood at Alqualondë alongside the house of Fëanor."

_You do not have the blood on your hands that we do._

"Yet my father lives in the palace of Tirion, with our uncle the King. He does not hide away, and neither do his sons. Is it that you do not think you can be forgiven?"

Fingon puts his free hand on his cousin's shoulder. "If there truly is no hope for you, then why have you been released from Lord Námo's care? But if it truly is your wish – and that of your brothers – to live in solitude, then we will continue to visit you."

There is silence for a few moments. The sparrow nestles trustingly in Fingon's hand; he strokes its back with a finger.

"How is Ereinion?" Maedhros asks.

"He fares well. He still practices with his spear." Fingon smiles proudly, a tender expression coming into his eyes. "I am still not yet accustomed to being a father again, but it is an experience I would not change for all the stars!"

His next words catch Maedhros completely unawares.

"Elrond asked me where you are living. He wishes to see you."

"Does he know Maglor is not with me?"

"He believes he will return to Valinor one day."

The sound of quiet steps approaching causes both Elves to look up sharply. Fingon sets the sparrow on the ground and it flits away. He and Maedhros get to their feet as a black-haired Elf appears through the trees.

Maedhros recognises him immediately.

The Elf approaches warily and then stops, as though expecting to be sent away.

"Do you wish to see your father?" Maedhros asks gently.

"If he will agree to see me," is the reply.

_He will; he has missed you sorely. He fears he will never see you again._

"Come inside."

Maedhros and Celebrimbor walk towards the house; Maedhros has his right hand on his nephew's shoulder. He can feel Celebrimbor trembling.

"Fingon…please tell Elrond I would be happy to see him."

**To be continued. Reviews are very welcome!**


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